


Only To Awake In A Garden Divine

by liketogetlost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketogetlost/pseuds/liketogetlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was about as close to the hard, dirty ground as he could get without actually being considered fallen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only To Awake In A Garden Divine

He was about as close to the hard, dirty ground as he could get without actually being considered _fallen_.

 _”I like that one. He's pretty.” Tongue wet on dry lips, he didn't notice as Uriel glanced over at him with a upturned eyebrow._

 _He smirked, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckles. “This is going to be fun.”_

Castiel hid himself well. Picked a sweet looking, handsome vessel with huge, blue puppy dog like eyes that told people he wouldn't ever hurt a soul. Kept his talk to a minimum and wore clothes that made him seem, well, boring at best. Dean almost caught him admiring his jeans once, thought they'd look good on him, _off Dean_ , but he looked away before Dean could catch his eye.

He understood the concept of Heaven on Earth. Understood the cool burn of ice cream on his tongue, the soft tickle of the wind brushing through the tiny hairs on his arm. He understood why he felt dizzy whenever Dean groaned, even if he was in pain, because the vessel was programed to respond to things like that, no matter how inappropriate it was to do so. He understood quickly that Dean was his proverbial apple, his last test of strength and will to be good. Images of teeth biting into white, juicy meat brought up more images of biting into soft, yielding flesh that told him he was quite weak indeed to be able to pass this test.

Sometimes he sat around crowded parks and stood on the side of busy street corners, watching as people passed his way. He couldn't help but wonder why some people insisted on being so damn _good_ so they could make it past the Pearly Gates. Why they denied themselves the most natural of pleasures just to get into some forever land that they weren't even sure existed. Wanted to grab each human as they walked near him and tell them to do whatever they wanted because the real time to live and enjoy and taste and drink and _fuck_ was right now.

He admired the ones who did evil. Never spoke to them, or tried to seek them out. But he could recognize them, they were the ones who were calm and at peace. They didn't give a fuck about anything, and he couldn't imagine why anyone would want to torment themselves just to be able to stay self righteous enough to call themselves true.

So this mission had gone a bit complicated.

Dean made it more complicated. He tried his best to keep cool, calm and collected in his presence but it was incredibly difficult with the temptation of all that delicious darkness inside the man's head. Castiel wanted to get inside and have a look around, devour the images of blood and sensations of pain like a starving man served a feast. Push some of the almighty goodness right out of his own soul.

Also, he wanted to fuck Dean in ways God hadn't ever imagined to even make into specific sins.

He began to forget why he was really on Earth until Uriel would come by every now and then to remind him. Called him too young, too naïve and eager to handle their command. Castiel figured his days were numbered. Whether that meant he'd be gripped and pulled back up into a holy Hell of his own or if he'd finally fall that last inch, he wasn't sure.

But later, when the human lust for the chosen warrior became too much to bear, like hellish fires that were eating him up from the inside, licking at the underneath of his skin like demon's tongues, and he finally let himself douse the flames with Dean's mouth, hands, skin, tongue, _cock_ , he was sure. Sure he was fallen, unforgiven, a sinful dark soul as he pushed, grunted, sweated his way out of Heaven forever. He saw all those beautifully horrible things he'd wanted to see so badly before. The pure evil his Dean had encountered in his life, the things he'd had to do. All the blood, torn flesh, gun smoke and ash filled him up until he felt he would burst with the complete and utter _joy_ of it all.

Oh, he was finally falling. Falling into Dean until there was no where left to go, and he hit the ground with a terrifying, wet, slick, and satisfying _crash_. He was left with bruises, scars, marked forever, baring the title of a damned and dirty _demon_.

Blinked, breathing labored against the hunter's sweat dotted neck, dark laughter blowing against the little hairs there. The first time he had ever laughed almost felt as good as his first climax.

“What's so fucking funny?” Dean's voice betraying his words, he was worried he had disappointed his savior.

Castiel shook his head, chuckled again for the hell of it. “Nothing, nothing.”

So it was Dean who had saved him, instead. And it was Dean who hunted the evil he had helped him become. He knew he'd die by Dean's hand now. It amused him more than it should.

Oh, yes. This was quite fun indeed.


End file.
